


How Could I Miss it?

by nichovely



Series: Paying A Hell Of A Price [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Sans, Dom/sub, Dubious Morality, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Kinky, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichovely/pseuds/nichovely
Summary: After all, there was a limit for denial even.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, here I am with more bullshit. I'm sorry, I just want to have a well-earned place in Hell.
> 
> Oh, and this time? More kinky than the last buddy, so be ready or... *dramatically cries* leave me alone.

He couldn’t forget the damn promise.

And it was killing him, slowly fashion.

Every time he resets, every goddamn timeline he plays with, it only takes a foolish look to the fucking wicked skeleton and he can’t stop remembering.

In the rare moments he claims a pause for himself, to just sleep and pretend he isn’t so lonely he can feel a hollow where his soul was supposed to be and he needs nothing beyond that, all the sensations and the poor chit-chat between them comes back to torture him into unnecessarily madness and sometimes, it was barely possible to fight against it. But he keeps making his best at the effort.

Because, he’ll be damned, it was all he could do. Try **harder**.

At this point, he’s afraid of sleeping in his new found humanoid form even, ‘cause it betrays him in the most humiliating manner Flowey ever thought it could. He’s so lost in the translation of his body language when he wakes up to an countless number of relaxing and at the same time tensing muscles, feeling unbearably hot all over while his poor excuse for a dick creates a disgusting and sinful mess with something he discovers, after all the way he made in that hell, to be far away of normal seed.

It’s, surprisingly, watery and sweet. He can tells by the smell of it, and suddenly it’s attached to _him_. Always stinking freaking sweet in his ‘more monstrous’ form is like a reminder from his very own body, telling him how he’s fucked up in ways that sick even a blasphemous monster like him. The honeyed and grassy fresh delicate sweet smell repulses him just like the plague repulsed humans in the surface a long time ago and when he reads about that in the magic books in Snowdin’s library, he doesn’t laugh or snark. He just feels miserable.

But it ain’t something new, _is it?_

 

* * *

 

He decides to revenge all this recent crap that trashbag brought to him, so it’s fast and indescribably satisfactory as fuck when he sees the light in Papyrus’s eyes fade beautifully and he almost smiles for the first time in weeks because Sans is right there, watching it happen with his body tensed.

And for some strange reason Flowey can’t quite define, he can now _smell_ his grief. It kinda of makes the corner of his eyes water on such strong scent coming harshly at him but he only feels more amazingly powerful than before. Because it means he winned the fucking bet.

Smiley _can’t_ control him. He _never_ will.

\- Can you tell why, you stupid arrogant son of a bitch, it’s so good to kill your useless brother to me? – He shouts, a victorious grin spreading from cheek to cheek. – ‘Cause I have to say, it never fails in lighting me up!

For a glorious moment, everything in Flowey’s life appeared to come back to normal. The blissful feeling of taking the control and kidding with other’s lifes just because you can’t get your shit together, the confidence hitting him down like a wave kinda makes him wish he could drown on it.

There was a time when he _did_.

\- Adorable. – And an ironic smile was everything he needed to break Flowey’s moment. Damn freakish skeleton.

Coming out of his own thoughts, the flower monster shift his gaze from an unrecognizable body (seeing it turn into dust to be carried by the wind dramatically) to give attention to Sans, properly. He expects anger, disgust, hate or even the flaming neon-blue pupils to stare at him deeply just like it could see right through his body, that hypocrite judging him at every single step.

But he’s smirking. His moves, his silent and discrete walk towards him, are firm and a little bit hard but it doesn’t seem painful or too soon to do something, he’s not making himself work through the mourning or any of this usual bullshit. He appears to be feral, hunting a prey with a calculated strategy and Flowey’s body suddenly _stiffs_ in the middle of that hidden clearing in Snowdin’s freezing forest.

Something is wrong. He’s in danger, he now can _feel_ it.

A profound notion of some primitive instinct that says, no it _screams_ , to _get the hell out of there in the most rapid way he can_.

His pulse is getting crazy in it’s speed and his mind throws an alarming memory with it all strength to make him _really_ scared. It’s like ice water running through his veins.

 

_‘Every unhappy time you dare to come around me, I’ll make you my little bitch and I’ll see if you get to feel something beyond fear and hate.’_

 

\- What the fucking hell is wrong with me? – He murmurs in the cold air, to no one else but himself.

But, of course, the other hears it anyway.

\- Are you sure you wanna know?

The low voice that comes from the skeleton is colored with amusement and Flowey sees red in the thought of being a joke for the other, but he’s curious side is itching for information, so much it becomes uncomfortable to even think of letting the cue for an explanation go. He _needs_ to know.

\- I will ask one more time, Smiley _scum_ , what is wrong with me? – He repeats, giving a nice act of not being in total panic. – It is _always_ you that… what have you _done_ to me?!

He almost slips in his words, and expects his blushed cheeks are interpreted by an anger-induced side effect. Sans is just some steps away from him now, and it’s painfully similar to the battle that started all of this, in a way that even make him steps back from the monster. The uneasy smile is intact on his face, like a particular bad pun that he never gives up on telling.

It annoys him, because it starts to hurt.

No, wait. His body starts to hurt, a pulsing and hot stabbing pain that steals his breath for several seconds and puts some dark spots in his vision to lead him into dizziness. It’s working pretty damn good.

\- It has many names, our kind seemed to have different opinions towards it’s effect, but the new age calls it ‘The Present’. – He hears the voice talking, barely connecting them or coming with a sense to the whole situation.

He’s so hot, he puts a hand in his belly to see if he has hurt himself and for some reason has not noticed before. The pain spreads to his legs, and a sob leave his lips shamelessly in the magnitude of illness he’s suffering.

There’s a noise fulfilling the silence that become present in the clearing and his wrists now are hanged for him while his body forces itself to be supported by his knees in the freaking unpleasant snow, a hot blow of air makes contact with the skin of his, now sensitive, wrists and he can’t contain a moan.

No. Not again. No!

\- Poor creature, forgets to study about it’s new species and gets so confused when I take the situation in my hands to solve. – It’s Sans, he can tell now. He’s too close and Flowey wants to run, to hide, to stop whatever was happening, but it hurts so much in his legs and belly that he can’t even try to bring his vines to attack. – You’re just becoming what you’re meant to be.

Flowey wants to give a retort, to be the asshole he’s comfortable enough, now, to be. But the skeleton keeps going and he decides to maintain just biting his lower lip to stop himself of making humiliating sounds. – Monsters has an order, like everything in nature itself, Petals. And it’s perfect, it can’t be changed in the end anyways so there’s no reason to fight it.

\- We have betas, the best of the two worlds. They can be strong as hell or _delicate_ as a _flower_ and their position in our species depends on personal skills mostly. - Slow, mouth-open kisses are pressed on his right, warm and already covered in sweat, cheek to the length of his bare neck and Flowey rolls his eyes under his eyelids in, surprising, pleasure.

Sans’s tongue is wetting all of his neck skin and it feels so good, refreshing the hotness and sending his need away with this divine scent of…

Freshly-baked pie. And old and very interesting books, that type you just know that has secrets and the good stuff you’re looking for in a long time. Flowey could write poesy about how strangely good it mixed into the best smell he ever got washing over his senses, but a hard bite in his soft skin claimed a small scream he was willing to give.

\- And then it comes to my type: alphas. Alphas are the most strong of monsters and the majority of them are impulsive, short-tempered even. They’re natural leaders, protecting their families with all they’ve got while providing the best for their mate. And pretty animalistic in bed, if you wanna know.

A-alpha. He tries to see if it rings a bell, but it’s pointless in his current state. He feels long and thick bony fingers caressing his golden petals with such kindness it’s overwhelming, a tear makes its way through his face as something is changing in his sensitive body. He blushes in vivid red as he came to realize he’s hard and it remembers him of the hellish nights of self-hate and abominating arousement.

But now he’s here, kneeling for the monster he swore never were to tame him into the mess he is, right now. It’s embarrassing, and he chokes with his own spit when he suddenly feels something soaking his pants with the suffocating sweet freaking smell he hates with such a passion.

He inhales mortified. He’s truly _wet_.

\- And, finishing with an golden key, there’s monsters like you in our world. Omegas, pretty and sensual, insatiable, creatures that need the knot only an alpha can give. They are extremely fertile, responsible for at least 60% of monster population, and made to be smart and maternal as hell. It’s the other half of an excellent team, a good mated couple can live for milennia and fight for half of that with minimal risk. – Sans doesn’t hide his awe when it comes to that… knowledge.

Flowey knows he would be sick if he wasn’t so hot and needy, his powers don’t seem to work when he reaches for them and his thoughts are confusing him with the insistance that something in Sans’s bullshit made sense.

But it couldn’t take too long. He was smart.

\- Yes, I can see you understand your situation here now. – The skeleton must have looked into the afraid gaze Flowey tried to hide. – I’m an alpha, and that little fun we had, started your present as a submissive omega. And now, you’re in an awful heat that shouts and plead for my cock and knot.

In this moment, Flowey wants to die with all his might and maybe, under the hungry gaze of an enemy that has in fact screwed him in all the possible ways, now he could. He knows not even determination must succeeds in stopping him.

\- Face it, sweetheart, your body wants to give the control to me. – In a numb-like state, he hears the sound of Sans getting his shorts off to free his heavy erection. He feels more tears coming to his eyes when the strong scent of pre-come makes his mouth water, involuntarily.

But he also knows that it’s too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't that just peachy? I think it's cool to see Flowey be damned for once in this relationship, don't ya think?
> 
> Well, the good stuff will happen in the next chapter, so wait for it! Hope you liked this AU of mine, and forgive any grammar issues? Pretty please?
> 
> (And don't worry, everything you didn't get an answer for? I'll work it through the series!)


End file.
